Lonely
by jankmusic
Summary: Molly Hooper always sees. —A sort of sequel to English Breakfast with the Landlady.
1. Chapter One

Lonely

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock!

BB/N: This is another little one-shot in the same realm as English Breakfast with the Landlady, but you don't really have to read that in order to read this!

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Sherlock Holmes sat alone in 221B Baker Street, clutching his phone in his hand and staring at the empty seat across from him.

A disturbing feeling of loneliness was creeping in his chest, and Sherlock was utilizing his lack of work for the day to self-reflect on why he was feeling so lonely. Sherlock rarely self-reflected—oh yes, he often could sit in his mind palace for hours, wandering around and sorting through rooms and belongings, but rarely did he reflect on his own personal feelings.

It was too quiet in 221B.

John Watson wasn't home. He left early to spend the day with his girlfriend.

The woman who John had been dating for almost two years.

The lady who Sherlock hasn't had the pleasure to meet in the four months he has been back.

Of course, Sherlock understood why John was so reluctant to introduce him to Miss Mary Morstan. He didn't necessarily have a great track record with John's girlfriends, and even though it had been a year since he returned from the dead and his and John's friendship was stronger than it could ever be, John still didn't feel comfortable with the idea of them meeting.

Sherlock took a deep breath and tried to ignore the tightening in his chest.

Sherlock crouched down on his haunches, allowing his fingers to gently skim the spines of the books that were on the shelves as he quickly read the titles. He smiled to himself when his eyes caught sight of the book that he was searching for: "Bees: Their Habits, Management, and Treatment". To stave off the inevitable boredom of not working a case over a four on his scale, he decided to traipse through a bookstore.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned his head slowly and was surprised to see Molly Hooper, dressed in a yellow sundress, white flats, and her hair cascading over her shoulders. She smiled warmly at the consulting detective and he couldn't help but return the gesture.

"Hello Molly."

She shuffled her feet and her smile grew bigger as she saw the book he was purchasing. "Interested in bees again?"

"Always," he breathed, running a hand through his hair. "And is that another pathology book?" he said, a hint of teasing in his voice. Her flat was filled with shelves upon shelves of pathology, anatomy, toxicology, and forensic texts.

"Yeah, specifically on bone marrow. I had an interesting patient a few weeks ago that made me curious. Are you about done here? Have you had lunch yet?"

"Yes and no." Sherlock followed Molly as she turned her head to look at him.

"Want to get lunch? I'm famished."

The feeling that had been clenching around his heart seemed to lessen, and he couldn't help it as he said, "I would love to have lunch."

After lunch at a deli near the bookstore, Sherlock and Molly found themselves eating ice cream in the park. The skies were clear and the chance for rain was slim to none on this sunny, July day. After walking around silently for a few minutes, they sat down side by side on a park bench.

"Umm…Sherlock? I don't mean to pry, but is everything alright? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…I just noticed…"Molly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and peered at Sherlock. He smiled a little bitterly before spooning the last of his ice cream into his mouth.

"You always see." He didn't say anything else for a moment, before he sighed and tilted his head back, allowing his face to feel the warmth from the sun. He hadn't spent time at St. Bart's lately, and yet Molly still had the uncanny ability to truly _see_ him. "I'm lonely," he admitted softly.

Molly was silent, and Sherlock refused to open his eyes and look at her. He could feel her gaze penetrating through him, and he didn't want to see the pity in her eyes. He flinched when he felt her hand on his arm. "I know what it's like to feel lonely. And…" She stopped talking, and Sherlock finally opened his eyes and tilted his head so he could see her. Memories of her spending the holidays, birthdays, and most nights alone were brought to the forefront of his Mind Palace. She was chewing on her bottom lip, and he could see her trying to pick her words carefully.

"You should come over for supper tomorrow. I've got a late shift at Bart's tonight, but tomorrow is Wednesday and I don't work on Wednesdays—but you already knew that." She giggled and squeezed his arm again. "I can make that toad in the hole that you liked so much that one time or my neighbor gave me a barbie and I've been slowly working through recipes I found online." She smiled brilliantly at him and patiently waited for a response.

Sherlock hesitated for only a second or two. Molly wouldn't invite him over out of pity; for some unfathomable reason, the woman actually enjoyed his company, even though before his fall he had treated her poorly. And he knew he could take this opportunity to remind Doctor Molly Hooper how much she counted, possibly with less emotion than his admission to Mrs. Hudson.

"I'll bring the wine."

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BB/N: Thank you for reading, and the second chapter of this little guy should be up soon!


	2. Chapter Two

Lonely

Chapter Two

BB/N: Thank you for reading!

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"It's not a date. It's not a date. It's definitely not a date. Two friends having dinner. Molly, get a hold of yourself!"

Molly was standing in front of her mirror, her hands holding onto the sink tightly as she stared at her reflection. She was dressed similarly to when she ran into Sherlock in the bookstore; a gray sun dressed partnered with a black cardigan and black flats. She parted her hair down the side and pulled it back, knowing that she didn't want her hair to get in the way when she was cooking.

After take a few deep breaths and then laughing at her dramatics in front of the mirror, she stepped out of her loo and went to her kitchen. It was getting close to time for Sherlock to arrive, and after a quick glance at the clock, she knew their dinner was finished and needed to be pulled from the oven.

As Molly was placing the toad in the hole on the table, she heard her front door open. She listened as Sherlock stepped into her flat and took a few steps inside before she heard him murmur, "Hello Toby." She smiled at him as he stepped into her kitchen; Toby nestled in one of his arms, purring away, while he held a bottle of wine in the other. "I hope you did not expect me to knock."

"I don't think you've ever knocked to come inside. At least you stopped picking my locks!"

She could almost hear Sherlock roll his eyes as he placed Toby on the floor and sat down at the table. "You forced me to take a key, Molly. It is a waste of time to pick a lock when I have a key."

"You could return the key," Molly countered, taking the wine that Sherlock placed on the table and examining the label. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Sherlock was eyeing their dinner, and she couldn't help but smile. She was always pleased when given the opportunity to feed him up.

Sherlock just huffed in response, and stood up. Molly watched as he went to her cabinet and pulled out two plates and she knew it was time to eat. She wouldn't have been surprised if Sherlock hadn't actually eaten in a few days. Without John there harping and reminding him to act human when he wasn't working cases, Sherlock probably let himself go.

Dinner was not a quiet affair, like Molly was expecting. Sherlock was asking questions, which threw her for a loop because Sherlock rarely asked questions; he deduced his answers before asking anything. But tonight, Molly supposed he was in a mood and she entertained him willingly, telling him about her latest shift at the morgue, her irritation with the pathologist who was taking over for Mike Stamford for the week as he and his wife were on holiday, and the research she was conducting for an article she was hoping to get published.

Unexpectedly, when Molly went to put the dishes in the sink, Sherlock interrupted her and began washing their dinner dishes. Molly tried not to stare at him agape, but when she couldn't successfully do that, she moved to her cupboard and searched for a container she could put the leftovers in; there was enough for her and to send some home with Sherlock.

They moved about the kitchen in a companionable silence until the dishes were put away, and Molly stored the containers in the fridge. "Ice cream?" she offered, standing in front of her fridge. "It's nothing fancy, just chocolate…"

"That's fine." Sherlock moved to the living room, and Molly took this time to reflect on Sherlock's behavior as she dished up their dessert. She knew that the Consulting Detective was feeling vulnerable, but she wasn't sure how to go about talking to him about it. Sherlock was already hard to talk to; she was surprised that she got him to admit he was feeling lonely in the first place. She glanced into her living room to see Sherlock standing in front of one of the bookcases, his hand running down the spines of one of her many college texts. She was certain that he had read all the books during his numerous stays with her while he was dead. She returned her attention to the ice cream. "It must be about John…" she murmured to herself, picking up two spoons and placing them in the bowls. Suddenly, she knew exactly what she had to do and say to Sherlock.

"Do you want to watch the telly? I think Jeremy Kyle will be on in a few…"

"No, I'm not in the mood. Besides, it's a rerun. I've seen it already." Sherlock accepted the bowl and sat down on the couch. Molly stood back for a moment and watched him as he scooped a spoonful and popped it into his mouth.

Not even waiting for them to finish their dessert, Molly sat down right in front of Sherlock on the table. His eyes widened slightly, but she ignored it, instead taking a deep breath and putting her hand on his knee. "Sherlock, you count."

The spoon clattered in Sherlock's bowl, and Molly could see the shock on his face and he opened his mouth to say something; she didn't want to hear him tear apart her honest statement before she could properly articulate herself, so she plowed on. "You count to so many people; to me, Greg, John…" She paused for a second, squeezing his knee before adding, "And I know things are not how you imagined them, but John's still coping and he just needs a little bit more time."

Molly smiled tentatively at Sherlock, before letting go of his knee and picking up her bowl, moving to the opposite end of the couch. Now that she had properly embarrassed herself in front of Sherlock, she could try to salvage the evening by being quiet.

They finished their dessert in silence, Sherlock staring straight ahead, and Molly staring down at her bowl, glancing at Sherlock every few seconds. It was when their desserts were finished and Molly placed her bowl on the table that Sherlock moved. At first, he just shifted his weight, but in a matter of seconds, he was suddenly sitting beside her, his side pressing against hers.

"Molly?"

"Yes?" she whispered, slowly raising her eyes to meet his.

"You said once, that I could have you."

Molly bit her lip and nodded her head, unable to articulate a response. Sherlock tilted his head slightly, licked his lips, and then smiled hesitantly.

"Does the offer still stand?"

It was as if the world stopped spinning for just a moment, but then it started again, almost too quickly. Molly had to take a deep breath in order to right herself. "Always Sherlock, always." If her voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears, Sherlock didn't mention it as he gently pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you, Molly Hooper," he whispered. "For everything you've done for me, and everything you will do for me. It's hard for me to talk about my…_feelings_." He rolled his eyes, and Molly couldn't help but giggle. "But as long as you know that you count, that you've always counted…" he trailed off, and Molly nodded her head.

"You count too. Always," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Sentiment," he scoffed, once again rolling his eyes. "If Mycroft heard me now…"

Molly stiffened beside him, tension rising in her body. She could hardly hold the contempt back as she spat out, "There is nothing wrong with sentiment and feelings and _this_!" She narrowed her eyes and glared at the table in front of her. "All your life, you've been told that "sentiment is a chemical defect", but you know what? Sentiment has given you the most enriching, loving, and wonderful relationships a human being could ask for. So, Mycroft can sod off with his terrible attitude!" She pulled away from his side and stared at him fiercely. "I never want to hear you degrade sentiment again, understood?"

Sherlock nodded his head once, a corner of his mouth quirking up at the sight of a ferocious Doctor Molly Hooper. After a few seconds, Molly nodded her head once and exhaled through her nose before relaxing beside him. It was pleasing to see Molly irritated with Mycroft, and he couldn't help as the quirk of his mouth bloomed into a full smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Molly looked up at him, and Sherlock murmured, "I am lucky to have you. You always see me, and I have a feeling that I won't be feeling as lonely anymore."

_Fin._


End file.
